


3rd Planet

by albertblithe (Gabbaroni)



Category: The Pacific (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, Boys In Love, Contemplating the universe, Falling In Love, Found Family, M/M, Nature, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Slow Burn, Technology, found home, small wonders, some existentialism
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-26
Updated: 2018-08-25
Packaged: 2019-07-02 15:54:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15799761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gabbaroni/pseuds/albertblithe
Summary: When the Earth’s Sun began to die, most people decided to get the hell out of dodge. But others stayed, determined to stick with their only home until the very end. Thousands of years later, when the Sun had gone and taken most of Earth’s life with it, five men were sent on a mission to go back and study the home mankind left behind. But upon arrival, they were faced with the impossible: a boy in overalls.





	1. Prologue: Discovery

**Author's Note:**

> Where do I start? This was originally meant to be written for the Pacific Big Bang, an opportunity for which I'm so grateful. So thanks to Kay and Terra, for creating it. This got really big and sort of out of hand, but it's my love child and I'm having a blast creating it.   
> The title is taken from a Modest Mouse song by the same name which served as quite a bit of inspiration and was my go-to song for writing.   
> All of the chapters have been named after NASA missions, just for fun.  
> The original inspiration for this concept came from a Vsauce video (What If The Sun Disappeared?) that you should totally check out if you're a big nerd like me.   
> This story is fiction and not based on any real events or people.

Led by their Captain, a team of five took its first steps onto an unknown, home planet.

Their suits were well streamlined, much thinner and more clever than the white, marshmallow ones the first Americans had worn when they planted footsteps on Earth’s moon. These were built to maintain air pressure, circulate oxygen, and light the wearer’s face without so much as a hum and were given nearly every available new feature: a comm system with multiple channels, a flashlight built into the left palm, a display screen capable of cataloguing an environment’s air pressure, heat, humidity, gaseous makeup, topography, and anything else an explorer might need. 

Eugene’s flashlight swept over a white and crystal-covered ground. Underneath his boots, the earth broke away in clumps and he knelt to pick up a shining chunk of icy dust. 

Holding it eye-level, his suit scanned the material and read across his screen: PRECIPITATE; OXYGEN.

Gene stood, rubbing his fingers together and watching the dust flutter to the ground. Under the glow of his flashlight, it shimmered and Eugene thought of tinsel. 

“Oxygen snow?” He asked aloud to no particular member of his crew. 

Jones replied, however, “It’s closer to ice than snow. Without the sun, the gases in the atmosphere would have condensed to liquid and, eventually, to a solid precipitate.”

“I thought you were a linguist, Hillbilly,” Leyden poked.

“Undergraduate degree in Organic Chemistry.”

Eugene heard Haldane’s gentle laugh echo across the comm.

Five beams of light swayed and swung over the land as it rose and fell. They had landed in what was once the American Northwest; Eugene knew what was once here: mountains, lush green, several hundred miles South had held desert and canyons that looked like they’d been hand painted. The photos Letans had of their old home were faded, restored, and faded again, but they looked nothing like this. The whole world had been swallowed by a tundra. 

Several hundred paces from the Atlas, its crew fanned across a strip of glimmering and clouded glass.

That was, not glass, but a river. A thick ribbon of solid ice stretched out farther than their flashlights’ light could touch in either direction. Haldane reached into the belt of his suit and retrieved a utility knife. Plopping down onto both knees, he braced himself beside the river with one hand and began hacking at the ice until several chunks broke free and he could gather them in his hand. 

“What, on God’s green earth, are you doin’, Skipper?” Jones asked. 

“Collecting samples.” came the easy answer as Haldane placed the ice into a sample bag, also produced from his suit. “We should get some from farther down, too.” He pointed along the river’s edge and four lights followed his path. 

They each spread across the bank, Sidney and Eugene making the trek across to collect samples from the other side. Eugene broke off jagged and uneven pieces with his knife and placed them into separate bags and the bags into separate pockets so he could later tell them apart. 

Sidney’s voice crackled into his left ear, “Did you expect it to be like this?”

“What, frozen?” Eugene laughed and sent his friend a sideways smile.

“No,” Sidney said, “lonely.”

Haldane’s voice came into his right ear, as clear as if he were standing just beside him, “Sledge, Phillips, why don’t you two continue beyond the river. We’ll all go a few paces and spread out. Record your findings and return here in twenty minutes. 

“Aye, Captain,” Eugene and Sidney replied in their own turn. Eugene walked Northeast, with Sidney splitting off to the East.

Five flashlights shone outward like the five points of a star, growing apart until Eugene heard the fizz and click of the comms going silent as he broke past the signal’s radius. 

“Alone for the first time in five years.” he said into the moonless night.

Walking on and on, Eugene revelled in this silence, dense and deep. Even if the stars were enough to light his path, he kept his palm up as he continued. He found himself swallowed into the valley created by two small hills, the light from his palm bumping and bouncing with the terrain. Around the winding path carved by yet another hill, Eugene saw his light reflected. Then, when swiping back across, reflected again.

Odd.

He walked forward, only illuminating the path at his feet, and stuttered to a halt before an enormous wall of glass, nearly invisible until one was just upon it. His own face reflected into his eyes. Eugene brought a shaking, gloved hand to press against the pane and with his shadow cast against it, he could see past his reflection and into the eyes of another. 

A boy in overalls.

  
  


“You speak English?” he asked for the third time.

Haldane answered again, “yes.”

The crew of five sat around a table, their left wrists handcuffed, wearing nothing but thin, white shorts, as their sopping hair dripped water onto their shoulders. The pleasantries had all been exchanged earlier in a transition chamber.

_ Are you hostile? _

_ No. _

_ What is your intent here? _

_ We have no intent _ here.  _ We didn’t–no, please don’t take our suits– _

_ Quiet. They will be returned to you after an inspection. _

They had been stripped, showered, and escorted through the watchful eyes of a gathered crowd of hundreds before being inspected themselves from head to toe. The crew watched as their suits were taken inside-out, their sample and dissection kits thrown away, and the proud patches displayed on their arms and chests ripped off and placed on the table in front of them.

“Tell me about this,” a man said, “what are these?” he tapped a finger twice on a patch worn on the upper arm. 

“Those are my stripes,” Bill said, the first of the crew to speak aside from Haldane, “you’re talkin’ to a Corporal.”

“Corporal? You have military training?”

“Paramilitary,” Haldane corrected.

The man hummed and gave his companion a look as he picked at his lip but no words were exchanged.

He leant over the table and pushed forward the rectangular, silver-colored patch worn on a collar. “What is this?”

Jones looked to Haldane before answering, “My Lieutenant’s bar.”

“And this?” he slid forward another silver-colored patch.

“I’m a Captain.” Haldane said.

The man nodded once and Eugene watched as his companion retrieved a notepad from a pocket and began writing. Swiping those patches into a sealable bag, the man replaced them with two more. He tapped twice on the one worn on both lower biceps.

“A flag?” he asked, to which all of the crew nodded. 

Eugene felt a painful mixture of pride and loneliness swell inside him as he looked at his planet’s flag; it’d been five years since he’d seen home.

Two horizontal stripes of green bordering a stripe of white. Within the white, a star connected to three circles, all in gold. The green represented prosperity and good health and was an homage to the Earth they came from. The white was unity and brotherhood. The gold, compassion and humanity.

A crease in his brow, the man asked, “What are these?”

“Our sun, Lyra,” Haldane answered, pointing to the single star, “And Leto.” he pointed to the last circle, “We’re third from the sun, just like Earth.”

The crease in his brow seemed to deepen and the man looked to his friend, seeing that he was still writing. “Alright,” he pointed to the next patch, “And this?”

This patch was worn on the left breast, over the heart. It was circular, a deep blue, with a red ‘A’ in the center. Along the top half of its border were eight five-pointed stars; sitting at the bottom was a single eight-pointed star.

“Our mission: Atlas 1.” Haldane reached slowly with his right hand and pointed to the stars on the top, “These represent the eight planets of your solar system,” he pointed to the star on the bottom, “this represents your sun,” finger pressed firmly to the ‘A’, he said, “Atlas is the name of our ship.”

  
  



	2. Genesis

The Crew of the IEV Atlas were granted permission to come into the Yellowstone Colony and granted access to its own wealth of knowledge upon the mutual agreement to three specific terms, set by both parties. 

 

**Term 1: The Crew of the IEV Atlas will wear location-monitoring devices at all times during their stay in Yellowstone Colony.**

 

“Fuck no.”

_ “Bill.” _

“Look, no offense to you all, but I am not wearing some goddamn tracking device so you can follow me–”

_ “Corporal Leyden.”  _ Haldane said, his gaze sharp enough to quell Leyden’s tirade.

“We have no intention of harming you or impeding your movements in any way.” One of the caretakers said, “But, as long as you’re here, we’d like to know where you are. We’ve never known strangers and this may… ease the minds of those wary of your presence.”

Haldane looked to Jones and shared the silent conversation Eugene had seen them have a hundred times before. He nodded and said to the caretakers, “That is acceptable.”

Five bracelets were produced from a cloth bag. “These will let us know where you are within the colony, nothing else. I assure you it’s just a precaution.”

Eugene turned one over in his hands, slim and metal. When he clipped it in place around his left wrist, the bracelet beeped and a dim strip of green light illuminated along its center, circling the entire length of the band. 

“What is the light for?” he asked. 

“It tells us that you are in a location which you have authorization to enter. If you somehow find yourself in a restricted area, the band will turn red.”

 

**Term 2: The MD of the IEV Atlas will give medical examinations to all 582 citizens of Yellowstone.**

 

Sidney asked that Eugene help him. Simple things, just write down what he said, help show patients in and out, console little ones as he prodded at them. Eugene accepted, not realizing how long this would take or how many people he would have to see nearly naked. Most of the people were timid in the presence of a doctor; the environment completely unknown to them. They didn’t recognize the shining, metal tools he used and boarding the Atlas itself proved a harrowing experience for most all of them. Eugene stood by and watched as Sidney comforted all of them, allowed them to examine the medical bay as they wished, pick up his tools to find they were not dangerous. As he went along he explained each of his actions in a slow and kind voice, so the citizens of Yellowstone could feel at ease. Each of these people came and went, one after the other, so that they all blended together in Eugene’s mind. In the end, however, he would remember the examinations of eight people.

  1. A young man with dark curls; intelligent, talkative. As Sidney tried to listen to his lungs with a stethoscope, he said, “Listen, I have a friend who’s gonna come in after me. He’s a little nervous about the whole thing. Treat him well, will you?” He smiled out of the corner of his mouth as Eugene assured him his friend had nothing to worry about.
  2. This friend: a young man, blonde, with round, wire reading glasses.  
“Your friend said you were nervous to be examined?” Sidney asked him.  
“Did he?” he laughed through his nose, “You can tell Leckie to go fuck himself.”
  3. Another young man with dark curls; much taller than the first and increasingly brighter. He giggled when Sidney pushed on his bare abdomen, checking his liver, his spleen; Eugene had to keep himself from giggling with him
  4. One smaller than his companions. He was smart with a wicked grin and kept an easy conversation with Sidney has he took his pulse, his blood pressure, examined his ears and eyes; a much needed break from the quiet nerves of most.
  5. Many patients later, there was a calm and polite young man who told them, “My kid brother’s in line behind me.” He said, “His ears have been killing him but he’s afraid of what you guys might do to him if he tells you. Don’t let him get away with lying, please.” and Eugene realized for a short moment that he missed Edward.
  6. One who seemed more like a boy, rather than a man. He was small, his voice even smaller, but he was healthy and sweet-natured. Eugene enjoyed his short-lived presence.
  7. A woman. In her late fifties, her health was remarkably poor. Slightly malnourished, poor lung capacity, and weakened muscles. Eugene could see it in her thin and silver hair, her yellow fingernails, but found it curious that her personality seemed untouched. She was lively, proud, even crude at times.  
As Sidney stepped forward with a purple band and a needle, he apologized, “I don’t mean to concern you, ma’am, but we’d like to take a blood sample.”  
Eugene was almost certain the woman had never had her blood drawn in her life, given the lack of medical practice in Yellowstone alone. But as Sidney tightened the band around her upper arm, she laughed and said, “Don’t you worry, _ma puce._ You’re not the first man to try and take a poke at me.”  
Sidney cleared his throat loudly as he tried to hide the blush on his cheeks and looked down to clean the skin of her forearm. Eugene had to hide his bubbling laughter behind his clipboard and a clenched fist.
  8. Her son. Eugene recognized him immediately, dressed in the same worn, blue denim, the same skinny chest glistening with sweat, the same bare feet.  
“Take off your clothes, please,” instructed Sidney, “you can keep your underwear on.”  
“You didn’t think I would give you a show, did you, doc?”  
Eugene recorded his pulse and his blood pressure, felt the tacky slide of his skin.  
“Have you ever seen a doctor before?” he asked, knowing the answer but wanting to lighten the shadow over his brow.  
“We have doctors, they take care of the people who are gettin’ old or sick…” he looked around the bright room, clean and almost entirely white, “but I’m beginnin’ to realize you folks mean an entirely different thing.”  
He was underweight, seemed likely overworked, and dehydrated.  
“You should be fine,” Sidney said without looking up from his scribbled note, “eat up and get more sleep. Make sure you’re drinking water while you work.” He pulled the note free and handed it to him while he hiked up his overalls and clasped the straps over his shoulders. He gave a click of his tongue and a nod, heading to the door without a word.  
“Wait.” Sidney said, as the sickbay doors slid open. “We need your blood.”  
“My blood?” his brow knit back together, “you a vampire or somethin’, doc?”  
“We took a sample of your mother’s, we’d like yours for a comparison.”  
With the doors open and without better instruction, the next patient entered the room, a young woman with a baby on her hip. She stopped short at first, but Sidney reached out to her, “No, please, this way,” he guided her by the arm and twisted to speak over his shoulder, “Eugene, could you…” He gestured to the patient.  
“Yeah.”  
As Sidney seated the young mother on the examination table, Eugene coughed a bit, something to clear the space between him and this stranger, and gestured to the phlebotomy chair that was screwed into the wall.  
His patient sighed and rolled his eyes, but sat down, nonetheless. He watched as Eugene collected what he needed and sat on a rolling chair in front of him.  
Eugene tied a purple band around his bicep, “Make a fist.” he instructed and the patient did so. Gene readied the vial and needle as he spoke, “Have you ever had your blood drawn before?”  
“No.”  
“Well, it’s nothing to worry about. It’ll pinch, but only for a second. But you might want to look away, some people become faint.”  
He seemed opposed to the notion that he would mind the sight of blood, and chuckled a little. Eugene shrugged and forego any countdown in favor of surprising him. The patient sucked in a breath through his teeth, but Eugene was already releasing the band around his arm and grasping his now white-knuckled fist.  
“Let go, please,” he said.  
The patient relaxed his hand but as the blood began to drip into the vial, he leant his head back against the wall, “Maybe I shouldn’t look, after all.”  
It was over after a few seconds more and Eugene removed the needle and taped a patch of gauze to his arm.  
“See, not too bad,” Eugene said as he packed away his things.  
He only hummed and asked, “Can I go now?”



 

The Atlas Crew met with the two caretakers of Yellowstone Colony, the two men who had questioned them when they had first arrived, named Cary and Dels, and Sidney read from his tablet, the report which had been shared with the other crew members.

“The population consists of males and females ranging from ages six months to 78 years.” Sidney said, “generally healthy, although most of the children of about age eight and under show signs of malnourishment.”

He looked up, perhaps looking for some response, but received none, so he continued, “No instances of cancer, diabetes, or heart disease. Really, there are only two concerns.”

“Yes?” asked Dels.

Sidney looked to Haldane who nodded, “Well, the first is a shrinking gene pool.” He said, “600 people is enough to eliminate direct inbreeding–”

“Obviously,” Cary interrupted, perhaps a little offended at the notion.

“No,” Sidney pressed on, “the concern isn’t the prospect of incest, but the genomes available for this population will most likely continue to decline if–” he paused, “uh, Mr. Cary do you know how many people were in Yellowstone’s original population?” 

“Uh, a census was developed during its third year. Then, there were about 1,000 individuals living here.”

Sidney hummed and looked back to his tablet, “That’s what I was afraid of. Your population is essentially relying on random mutation for all genetic diversity and, quite frankly, that’s not enough.”

Cary leant forward on his elbows and motioned for Sidney to sit down, which he did with a faint sigh. Eugene briefly laid a hand on his knee.

“So, what does this mean for us in literal terms?”

“Essentially,” Eugene took the torch from Sidney, “you likely are or will become prone to things like heredity disorders and diseases and your community’s overall health will start to decline.”

“Is there anything we can do to avoid this?” asked Cary.

Eugene shrugged, “Have more kids.” When both Dels and Cary gave him rather blank looks, Eugene continued, “Look, when you were forced into this structure to survive, your ancestors came from the culture of a developed country. In these terms, that means  _ not _ having enough children to replace a current population. But you’re not a developed country anymore. The situation is… precarious. But, to stave off genetic bottlenecking your citizens need to be  _ increasing _ the population.”

With crosses arms, Cary countered, “And exceed the limits of our resources.”

“Precarious.”

“Okay,” Dels pushed forward, “What is your other concern?”

Clearing his throat, Sidney said, “The older population, those of approximately ages 55 and up, all have similar symptoms.” He paused and read through his own notes, “It’s strange,” he continued, “fatigue, dizzy spells, lack of coordination, dysphoria, extended gaps in memory… Some even report periods of complete dissociation or mild hallucinations.”

“Shadow Sickness.” 

“I’m sorry?” Haldane asked.

“That’s what we call it.”

“It’s been a recorded problem since the establishment of this colony.” Dels elaborated, “Without the sun, artificial light seems to lose it’s, uh, effectiveness? After so many years, the body seems to begin breaking down, beginning with the mind.”

“You think this is a lack of vitamin D?” Sidney attempted to clarify.

“It seems that way, yes.” Cary confirmed, “but we have no true way to test this hypothesis–only the understanding of a correlation between the death of the sun and our own—rather rapid—mental decomposition.”

 

**Term 3: An exchange of information will take place between both parties and the Crew of the IEV Atlas will be allowed to study Yellowstone Colony in all of its functions, both scientifically and socially.**

 

Captain Haldane assigned Bill to follow the structural engineers, study their efforts and learn how Yellowstone physically  _ worked.  _ He assigned Sidney to follow the Oxygen Harvesters, which were responsible for going outside of Yellowstone, collecting the oxygen precipitate that covered the ground, and funneling it into enormous vats where it was boiled and evaporated. He assigned Eugene to follow the Greenhouse workers. The farmers. 

Specifically, Cary and Dels had him meet a group of three men who worked in the orange groves in Sector Five of the Greenhouse.

Eugene arrived with his uniform and his tablet, so starkly out of place in the soft grass that pulled at his trouser legs, it would have truly been a miracle if he went unnoticed. One of the three approached him, his two companions lagging behind, and shook his hand with an open and warm face. 

“My name’s Romus Burgin,” he said, “but everyone here calls me Burgie, so you might as well, too.”

Eugene nodded, “Eugene Sledge, Biologist and Navigator of the IEV Atlas.”

The title clearly meant nothing to him, but Burgie’s smile never wavered. He introduced his colleagues: to his right, “This is Jay.” and to his left, “This is Snafu.”

Jay leant forward and shook his hand as well, “Jay De L’Eau, nice to meet you.” 

Where Burgie was square and thickly built, Jay was thin and soft looking. His voice bubbled and broke like a stream and his hair flicked out around his ears like waves; Eugene thought, perhaps it was appropriate that he was named for water. 

And then there was the third, this boy who Eugene had seen again and again. His skinny ribs were exposed on his sides, without a proper shirt to cover them, and they stuck out, stark enough to count, veiled only by his brown skin, shimmering with sweat. His eyes, which were themselves huge and deep, were half-concealed by heavy lids as they studied the dirt ingrained into the creases of his hands. His mouth hung open, front teeth dipping below his lip, and the dark hair on his head sat in thick curls so tangled Eugene wondered if they’d ever seen a comb.

He only nodded to him and grunted disinterestedly. 

Curious, Eugene said, “Shelton, yes, I remember. Uh, Meredith, was it?”

He watched Jay as he attempted to hide his snickering behind his hand, turning his head, but Shelton looked to him now and said, “My name is Merriell, but you ain’t gotta be callin’ me that. Call me Snafu.”

Eugene nodded once. 

“Is that all you have to wear?” Burgie interrupted, his hands pressing into his pockets. 

Eugene looked down; his uniform was a wooly and thick dark blue and gray with sleeves and pant legs that cuffed at the wrists and ankles. Sweat was already beginning to bead at the base of his neck. It was suddenly clear to him that he would not be able to work while wearing it. Burgie and Jay wore soft, cotton shirts already rolled to the elbow, dark pants, and working boots, their clothes loose on their frames. Shelton wore what Eugene always saw him in: blue denim overalls, rolled up past his ankles with no shirt or shoes. Eugene began to wonder if he owned anything else. 

“Uh, I’m afraid so,” Eugene said, a slight blush coming into his cheeks at his foolishness. 

Burgie smiled again and assured him, “Don’t worry. We’ll find something for you. You can come with me to my room.” 

He stepped past Eugene, and as he turned to follow, Jay said, “Burgie, take him to my room. I think we’re closer in size than you and him.”

Nodding, Burgie replied, “Thanks, Jay.” and continued his walk, leaving Eugene to follow. 

Eugene followed him back, through four sets of transition chambers that divided the sectors of the Greenhouse: Orchards, Textiles, Roots, and Grains. Back through the huge, black mouth that was the entrance to the vast system of tangled tunnels and caves the Earthers called home. 

“Have you been to The Inside yet?” Burgie asked him. 

Not aside from the room the Crew had been interrogated in, and Eugene was half certain that didn’t count. “No,” he replied. 

Burgie nodded and said, “Okay,” before letting silence fall between them. The tunnels they travelled were twisted and frequently backtracked, crossing paths again and again. Eugene tried to catalogue his way back but found it impossible to memorize turn after turn. Finally, Burgie made a final pass into a short hallway and opened a door on the right. 

Inside this small room were a bed covered in a soft looking quilt, a chest of drawers, and a wooden trunk tucked into a corner. From the chest of drawers, Burgie produced a pair of gray pants, well worn around the knees and just too short at the ankles, and a cotton shirt, long-sleeved with buttons down the front. It may have been white once, but was now faded, with thin, pink-ish stripes barely standing in contrast against it. 

“I’ll step outside while you change, okay?” Burgie said.

Eugene changed quickly, following his hosts’ suit and rolling the sleeves to his elbows.

On their way back, Eugene still could not quite understand their path but figured it may come in time. In the orange groves again, Jay and Snafu were found among the branches of two orange trees, picking and tossing fruit into a large canvas tote below them. Burgie stood, looking up with his hands perched on his hips before retrieving a clipboard hooked to the side of the tote.

Eugene took out his tablet, set it to record and dictate, and began to ask questions.

 

“Do you have oranges on your planet, Eugene?” Jay asked. His legs dangled over the branch he was perched on. 

“Uh, I think we used to,” replied Eugene, “but some species didn’t survive very long.”

Snafu grabbed a low-hanging branch and swung himself up, his bare feet pushing off the tree trunk and coming up to find hold of the branch. As he wove his way through, he asked, “So you ain’t never had one before?”

“Never.”

Snafu plucked an orange from above his head. Eugene watched as he dug his thumbs into the top to pull away the skin, which he discarded onto the grass. He broke the fruit into two halves and called down, “Hmm? Burgie?” He held up the fruit for him to see. “Want half?”

“No,” Burgie replied, not giving Snafu any real attention. “You shouldn’t be eating our produce in the first place.”

Snafu looked to Eugene, then, chewing the inside of his cheek with an open mouth as he examined him. He pulled off one slice from the piece he had offered Burgie and tossed what remained to Eugene. Mouth hanging open, he smiled, never taking away his gaze, and bit the slice in half.

Eugene looked up; Jay was nodding to him, “Go ahead and try it.” he said.

Taking the fruit in both hands, Eugene pulled and watched as the slices parted with little resistance. He picked at the white pulp with his thumbnail, peeling it off in short strands, and broke the piece in half, watching it splinter and feeling the cool juice that pooled in his palm.

The orange tasted… not much like anything Eugene had ever eaten. He was reminded of peaches, but the texture was more delicate. The taste was bright and clear—sweet, but not like  _ sweets;  _ it was cooler and refreshing. 

He devoured the remaining slices.

His lips and hands were sticky with juice and Burgie, Jay, and Snafu were laughing at him, so Eugene laughed, too. 

Snafu plucked another fruit and tossed it down into Eugene’s hands.

  
  


**Corporal Eugene Sledge, IEV Atlas Biologist Log, Date: 98156-155**

 

The Yellowstone Greenhouses are perhaps the most impressive technological feat I have observed; I am almost certain there is no modern equivalent. They altogether span hundreds of square acres and have each been biologically terraformed with the intent of producing a wide variance of produce. Not only do the citizens of Yellowstone eat fruits, vegetables, and edible fungi, but they also have created secure farms and ranches for animals such as chickens, pigs, and cattle. 

Nearly all abled-bodied citizens work, to some extent, within the greenhouses. There are 25 distinct, completely separated units of the greenhouse, which all grow unique produce, as well as a large section devoted solely to maintain what once was the wilderness of this region. This seems to exist, in part, to help provide oxygen (which is mainly obtained through a separate process) as well as to preserve a bygone Earth which has been otherwise transformed into something, I’m sure, unrecognizable to these people. 

 

**Corporal Eugene Sledge, Personal Log, Date: 98156-155**

 

It’s an understatement to say that our landing on Earth has gone… unexpectedly. The idea that even such a small sect of humans could have survived was laughable. That they could have thrived was unthinkable. We didn’t expect to find anyone here because it was an impossibility. I guess I’m now forced to rethink my own working definition of the word. 

We’ve had very little time to interact and connect with the community at large, I’m sure strange visitors from another planet, no matter how human, wasn’t something they were expecting. The knowledge is hard to digest both ways. 

Those I have interacted with (at length) have been kind and generous to me. I’m finding it difficult to be the naive one after years of being the resident expert on all things biological. It’s humbling, and also exciting. 

Well, for now we sleep in the Atlas. I’m currently in my quarters, and for the first time in many years, it feels somehow cold. It’s been a long time since I’ve been somewhere so… organic feeling. It makes me homesick. I feel the same as I did the day I joined Atlas.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Kudos and comments fuel me, so I would absolutely adore feedback. Come hang out with me on tumblr @ackackh <3


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